Zeta Vortex: Upon the Wing
by LA Knight
Summary: Lothiriel, Eowyn, & Morelinde: longing for true comrades. Naira: yearning for freedom. Miriel: aching for someone who will ignore her handicap. But the friendship of these five maidens could be more dangerous than any of them ever imagined.
1. The White Cygnet

**The White Cygnet**

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"Lothiriel! Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, get back here!" The nursemaid, Igraine, bellows from the doorway of the Family Nursery.

She does not. She runs, as if her feet have wings. She has always been good at running. She can even outrun her brother Amrothos, though he is older than she is. She can even outrun old Igraine, her nursemaid, when the fit is on her. She does not want to be cooped up in her room all day, having her hair washed and brushed, being forced into one of her nice dresses that she is forbidden to get dirty, learning how to embroider and spin. She would rather be out having adventures, fighting Orcs and meeting Elven princes and rescuing Gondorian maidens... well, lads, at least.

So she does not get back there, though she knows that when she returns home eventually, she will be punished. Her father may not give her a whipping, but then... he might, at that.

So she runs, runs down the steps and down the halls and down even more steps, past walls of white stone, and runs through the kitchens, ducking and weaving around the servants. She runs out the kitchen door, into the gardens, feeling the earth beneath her feet. She runs past her mother's garden as well, making it to her aunt Finduilas's old, safe place. Tanglerose, her father calls it. It is a mass of thorny briars and snowy white blossoms. When she squirms beneath it, getting in through a gap in the pricking hedges just small enough a grown up wouldn't notice it, much less be able to get through to what lay withing, she finds herself safe in a tangle of impenetrable rose bushes and dagger sharp thorns like needles.

Sighing, her heart still thumping madly in her chest, she flops down on the ground, feeling the leaves crackle beneath her weight. She has never been pricked by a thorn here. She makes sure to clear the fallen branches from where she tends to sprawl out. She sticks them into various places in the hedges, to make them even more tangled and impregnable. This is her fortress, her hiding place. When she feels as if she will scream because everything is too much, too unbearable, she comes here, where she can be whatever she wants. She is only ten, after all.

Lothiriel comes here because she has no one. She has no friends her own age, and she wishes every day on the falling rose petals that one will come to her. None of the children of Dol Amroth will play with her- she is much too hoydenish and wild. They are all so tame and ladylike. Those that aren't to ladylike and stuffy are forbidden by their parents to associate with her, for fear that they'll become as untamed as she is, if not more so. The boys look down on her, despite her love of and skill with racing, hunting, fighting, swimming, and riding. Only her brothers don't sneer at her for being "a noble lady."

Her brothers are well enough, but they are so much older than she is. Even the youngest, Amrothos, is almost five years her senior. And the oldest, Elphir, is so serious and noble. She could never ignore the call to be wild as he does, the call of the earth and sky, sea and winds. Erchirion is the one most like her, but he is... different from her in the way that is truly important. They can never be true comrades.

Her mother has been trying to birth more children, but she has yet to become pregnant for the fifth time. Lothiriel will have no sisters or younger brothers to journey through this world with.

"When am I going to go on a great adventure? And how can I? I cannot go alone. I must have a companion. That is how it is done, is it not?" She asks a passing caterpillar. He lifts his little, fuzzy green head and appears to gaze at her, giving a little squiggle that might have been interpreted as agreement, before scooting off in search of fresh greenery to eat. Greedy, fat thing.

"When am I going to get a friend?" She whispers softly. Her eyes burn, and the world blurs.

"How did you get in here?" Another girl's voice demands. Lothiriel gasps, bolting upright and whirling around. Her pale gray eyes like liquid silver find themselves locked with golden ones framed by thick black lashes.

"Who are you?" She cries.

"I think the question is," the other girl said waspishly, "who are you?"

**Oo8oo8oo8oo8oO**

A prequel to the series _Eomer Dreams, _among others. I own nothing copyrighted. Comments rocks.

A cygnet is a baby swan.

Regarding the thing about Lothiriel's brothers, I've come to appreciate my brother, Blake, & how lucky I am to have him. Rereading this, I realize that came out a lot in the chapter. Sorry about that, but I like it. Many of the relationships in Lord of the Rings (and my fanfiction) are between family. Lothiriel and her brothers. Morelinde and Anarmacil. Merry and Pippin. Merry, Pippin, and Frodo. Frodo and Bilbo. Boromir, Faramir, and Miriel. Arwen and Elrond. Etc.


	2. AN

**Ten Things**

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Okay guys. Here's what's going on.

**One**- I'm supposed to be getting married in 2 months (middle of December about) and I have things to plan. It's taking up a lot of my time. I apologize, but there it is.

**Two**- I'm desperately trying to get a job. After all, hubby can't support me and himself all by his lonesome.

**Three**- My comp is broken, so I only have computer access between5 and 11 in the morning. I can't get up at5 every day unless I go to bed at 8 or 9 the night before, and sometimes stuff comes up that prevents me from sleeping until midnight or later.

**Four**- I was out of town and unavailable on the comp for 5 days, the last day of which was this past Wednesday.

**Five**- I had inspiration for another fic in the few days beforeI went out of town, a House, MD/vampire fic called "_Suck_."

**Six**- I've been desperately struggling to get through _Eragon_ and _Eldest_ by Christopher Paolini because his 3rd book, _Brisingr_, just came out and I only have 2 weeks to read the thing.

**Seven- **I've been getting ready for Halloween.

**Eight-** I've been watchinga lot of TV: House, MD; the Mentalist;Criminal Minds; Law & Order: Criminal Intent; CSI: Las Vegas; NCIS; and Young Dracula, cutest vampire show for preteens ever.

**Nine- **I've been working on a romance novella for Harlequin-Silhouette's Nocturne Bites, and it's taken a while to get it finished. I finally got my last critique back from my Grandma on Tuesday (big romance and vampire fan). Now I just have to send it in to HS.

**Ten,**** _and most importantly_**- My grandfather died of cancer on Thursday, so I haven't really felt like writing much since then.

I'm sorry guys, but all_Lord of the Rings_ fanfiction ison hold for a while. Not too long- a week or so more, that's it. I apologize for the delay, and I hope to punch out the next chapter soon. Until then, bare with me.

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Loves to all my readers,

_LA Knight_


	3. The Scarlet Eyas

**The Scarlet Eyas**

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Nairaloth closes the book in her hands slowly, as if the very act pains her. This book, full of its beautiful watercolor illustrations of the woods and fields, sea shores and mountain peaks kissed by snow, is a knife to her heart. If she knew for certain she would never regret it, she would throw it from her window in rage and curse it. She hates the way the images in her books pull at her, tantalize her with half-whispered promises of things she cannot know.

But instead of throwing the book to its death out of her window, she lays it aside on the crimson velvet of the window seat cushion and brushes her trembling hands against the soft linen of her burgundy dress before catching at the copper silk of a stray curl hanging beside her cheek. It is the second longest lock of hair she has. She keeps all but a single braid and stray curl shorn to her head, soft golden fur like a cat's. But her braid winds its way past her hip on the left side, and the curl touches her chin. It is from that curl, once longer than the braid, that she cut a thin rope of her hair for the one who stole her heart away.

Anarmacil.... She breathes softly in her mind before forcing the thought away.

She stares out of her window, at the snow-laden ground at the feet of her home, the tower her father has built for her here, in this, the farthest reaches of their home. It is her refuge from the people who would seek to slay her, cut her throat for being the abomination they claim her father has whelped. It is also her prison, and she knows she will one day die within its hateful walls.

She stares at the sky, her heart wringing in her chest as the sun sinks beneath the craggy teeth of the snow tipped mountains. In her soul, she screams out his name, but the heartbroken sound remains trapped behind her clenched teeth.

"Lady Nairaloth?" Her lady-in-waiting, a goose of a creature with little sense and too much superstition, hovers at the door to her room. The servants know how she can become when the sun rises and sets. The great, golden disk of the sun reminds her of the reason she was imprisoned here, in this tower, for her own safety. It reminds her of a prince, and her mother, and all the lies she has been told.

"Leave me," she says softly. She wishes only to watch the sun set. The dusk will make her cry, she knows that. She does not want any of her enemies to see her weep.

"But my lady-"

"I said leave me!" She cried, and damned herself for allowing her voice to betray her grief. "Leave now, or I'll make sure you're haunted by demons for the rest of your miserable, pathetic life, do you understand?"

Naira closed her eyes against the sound of her handmaiden scrambling for the door. She didn't want to think about it right now. She didn't want to think about anything at all. Not her servants, not her solitude, not her dreams or the words of her father and mother, her brothers and sisters....

"My lady." A different voice this time, a man's voice, the only man allowed to stay here, in her prison. He is incorruptible, this man, and so her father allows him to remain.

"Belthriel Nicse," she acknowledges softly, gently.

This man would rather die than harm her. He is her ally, because he loves her cousin with the blood auburn hair, and Naira's cousin loves her. Belthriel would free the imprisoned lady if he were able. But he cannot. They both know this.

"Mornie will come to you tomorrow, my lady. Do you wish to see her?"

Mornie. The one who loves her. Morelinde, the Nightingale. Anarmacil's twin sister, and one of her only allies. Would she like to see Morelinde?

"Yes, Belthriel," she said. For a moment, something like a smile touched the corners of her mouth. "I would like to see Lindy."

"Very good, my lady," he said, and left the room.

He knows she does not wish him to remain here in her room, forced to think of her exile, her pain, her loneliness. And the guard knows his nearness makes her think of where he has come from, the side of Morelinde and her twin brother, the reason for Naira's banishment. He will leave her. He does not realize that she wishes to be near the guardsman, to smell the sunlight and crisp, winter air and the spray of the sea upon his skin. She knows that even after the journey, Belthriel will still smell like her Prince, whose presence he so recently enjoyed.

But she does not say this. She only listens as the door latches behind him, and lets her head fall back against the window frame, exhausted by the brief dialogue with her servant and her guard.

She wonders idly how long it takes a caged falcon to die.

**Oo8oo8oo8oo8oo8oo8oo8oo8oO**

An eyas is a baby hawk or falcon.

I own nothing copyrighted by someone other than me.  
Anarmacil & Nairaloth appear in my fic _Martapennas: Luineyende._ Morelinde, appears (much older) in _Eomer Dreams._

**My sources are:  
**_w w w . n e v r a s t . n e t  
__w w w . t u c k b o r o u g h . n e t_

**Translations:  
**Anarmacil - Sunblade  
Belthriel Nicse - I don't remember  
Morelinde - Nightingale  
Mornie - Darkness  
Nairaloth - Flower of Fire (I think)


	4. The Golden Eaglet

**The Golden Eaglet**

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Why did he look at her that way?

Eowyn, daughter of Theodwyn and niece of the King of Rohan, could not help feeling something like a chill whenever she entered a room where also resided her uncle's counselor, Grima son of Galmod. He stared at her, his gleaming, serpentine black eyes hooded by heavy lids, his lips twisted into a strange smile. Why did he stare at her that way? It made her ill.

Shaking off the feeling of nervousness and irritation as she felt the counselor's eyes slide over her figure in its steel blue riding dress, she bussed her uncle's cheek with a kiss, slapped her cousin's shoulder playfully when he tugged her long, golden braid affectionately, and walked out to meet her brother in the Royal Stables. Her shoulder blades itched, as if they knew a knife was waiting to stab between them. She ignored that feeling as well. She was safe in her uncle's halls.

"What took you so long, Sis?"

She smiled up at her brother when she stepped across the stable threshold. Both their mounts were groomed, saddled, and eagerly awaiting being taken out for a morning run. Eowyn shivered in anticipation of allowing her horse to stretch its legs, and being allowed to fly through the air upon her stallion's back, stretching her wings, as it were, as if she were flying through the air.

"Someone, though I shan't mention any names- Eomer- tied my hair in a knot last night. It took me twenty minutes to get it out."

"That sounds almost like a personal problem, don't you think so?"

"Shut up, Brother," she said, still smiling, and mounted her blood bay stallion, Flameheart. The two walked slowly out of the stable and down the main road of Edoras, until they reached the gates. Eomer took one of the small horns from the gate watchmen, in case he or Eowyn ran into trouble, and then they left Edoras behind and cantered out onto the plains.

"Care to race, Eowyn?"

"A chance to stretch my wings and fly? How could I pass that up?" She said, and kicked Flameheart into a gallop. Here, out on the plains, galloping like the wind, flying like an eagle, there was nothing. No pain, no grief, no fear, no nervousness. There was no Theodred, who often told her that while she was a shield maiden, she was also a noble lady of the Rohirric Court and to act like it. There was no house keeper, trying to force her to be something she was most certainly not- a nursemaid and a scullery wench. And there was no Grima, giving her strange, questioning looks and crooked, violating smiles. There was only the wind through her hair and the horse surging like a wave beneath her.

Overhead, she saw a strange sight. An eagle, its wings glinting like gold in the sunlight, and beside it, a black bird that sang sweetly, a nightingale's song. A wren, its feathers like russet apples in the fall and beaten copper, flapped alongside. A duck, ugly and drab and brown, flew with it. Something with gleaming white feathers and a long, elegant neck glided along next to them to the birds- a swan. And above it all, still part of the group but apart from them in some elusive, essential way, was a falcon with scarlet markings along its wings. These six birds flew in a flock to the South, towards Gondor, towards the Sea.

"Do you see that?" She called to her brother, reigning in her mount. "Do you see those birds?"

"Aye," he said. "How strange. I have never seen birds fly together like that."

"What do you suppose it means?" She asked.

"Means? What are you saying? Must it mean something?"

"Yes," she said. "Yes, it must." And she felt in her heart that the sight of that strange flock was an omen, though a strange one. An omen for good, a sign of hope in dark times to come.

"Sis?"

She shook herself from her reverie and turned her horse around to trot back to her brother, who pointed to a far off gleam of water, a thin little river, and grinned at her, saying, "Race you to that, dear heart."

"I'll win."

"We'll see," he replied, grinning broadly, and they both kicked their horses into a gallop. Headlong into the race, halfway to that tiny stream, a strange sense of foreboding filled Eowyn's heart, and she opened her mouth to cry out some sort of warning to her brother. Something, a red hot slice of pain, cut through her ear, and an arrow sank into her brother's shoulder. He cried out and fell from his saddle as Eowyn screamed, shrill and high, in a desperate attempt to attract attention even as she leapt from her horse and ran to her brother's side, cursing the fact that he had the horn and she did not.

She grabbed the silver horn and put it to her lips, blowing three sharp, long, echoing blasts- an urgent call for aid- and then drew her brother's long knife, turning to meet the seven Warg Riders fast approaching. She might die here, defending her brother, but surely, some of these vermin would die as well.

As they approached, as one peeled off from the rest and bounded swiftly toward her, the twang of a bowstring sang against her ears, and a long, thin arrow with bright blue fletching sank into the Orc's chest, piercing its foul heart.

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_yay, new chapter. Next we meet two drakes & a duckling. Things are picking up, I swear. This is like... filler fic to explain certain relationships in my more action-packed fics. I do series a lot, mostly 'cause I want so many things to happen it interferes w/ the plot- too much secondary character here's chapter 3. There will be... I'm thinking... 24 chapters. Maybe 30. Bye._

_Reviews?_


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